


Of being loved

by Indigoblau



Series: Fragments of a Caleidoscope [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuddles, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know, Is this even H/C?, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigoblau/pseuds/Indigoblau
Summary: Sometimes the world was too much.





	Of being loved

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Kai and Kaito.
> 
> (Honestly, no idea what this is. Again. And not betaed again. I'm sorry)

Sometimes the world was too much.

People and places and feelings and thoughts and appointments and scents and colors and chores and noises and arguments and decisions and-  
And the tall black wall looming in front of him, suddenly, making him run face-first into its charred bricks.  
And suddenly nothing was possible anymore.  
Suddenly nothing was anymore.  
Suddenly nothing.

He felt like sitting on the bottom of a deep, dark sea, alone and glued to the ground by this black mass, his materialized thoughts.  
Where there were too many people and places, there now were none.  
Where there were too many feelings thoughts, there now were none.  
Where there were too many colors and scents and noises, there now were none.

He couldn’t even hear his own breathing, his heartbeat, and he wasn’t sure if he was still breathing, if his heart was still beating.  
He brought his hands to his unruly hair, tugging at it to provoke a reaction from his body,  
he clawed his fingernails into his arms, bit his teeth into his lips, slammed his head against his knees.  
_Please._  
Anything.

 

He suddenly felt an embrace of hands.  
Hands that grabbed his arms, his legs and drew him out of the water, through the surface back to his bed were he’d been sitting this whole time, staring into the void of his prisoning mind.

Hands connected to arms that held him tight.  
Arms that held him as the tears started to blurry his sight,  
arms that held him as he silently tried to preserve his posture,  
arms that held him as he broke down completely, wailing open, crying out loud.  
Arms that held him even after his sobs and cries had died down.  
He lifted his own arm, settling his hand in those dark, curly hair, stroking softly.  
He drank the warmth and the calmness that radiated from the others body, tired from feeling, from not feeling at all.  
And as he felt two other bodies, four more hands joining the initial two, all of them smelling like a new day dawning, a few more tears slid down his cheeks.  
But they didn’t hurt anymore.  
Because this was home.

And even if this hands connected to arms connected to bodies and legs and heads with dark, spiky, curly and pinkish hair, even if they couldn’t fight off the darkness forever, they never gave up trying.  
And they never failed to ease the pain of feeling too much or not feeling at all.  
And in this few seconds, huddled together with his favourite people, tired from crying and being crushed by a needy world, he felt genuinely happy.  
He was not alone.

 

Sometimes the world was too much.  
But sometimes, it wasn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> There aren't many hints on who is who, I didn't felt like it.  
> Yet I clearly imagined Oikawa as I wrote this, and as I let my mind imagine the scene,  
> it was Mattsun who claimed to be the first there to catch poor Oiks.  
> So I let him.


End file.
